


No more Heroes

by NormanBabcock



Category: Rockman | Mega Man - All Media Types, Rockman | Mega Man Classic, The Protomen
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 05:10:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3277955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NormanBabcock/pseuds/NormanBabcock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A single figure looks upon her broken city, and wonders what will await her and her comrades in the coming future. There is only her now, but that does not mean she will ever give up. There is no room for failure now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No more Heroes

There was a stillness in the air, that could only be described as a tense, and unnerving silence. You stood looking out your window, out to the people you'd grown to know, to feel such a mixed bottle of hatred, of hope, of so many emotions that none could understand but yourself, and the lost, wandering soul of a machine-- no, a  _man_.

That man was gone now, but you remember him. You feel his presence still, so distant, but ever watching, and you hope to whatever God may exist in this vacant, death ridden town, that it is not just your own imagination conjuring him up. 

You have stared upon this city countless times; waiting, watching, listening, learning. You have seen these people rise, but not with weapons in their hands. No, only words leave their dry and parched lips, lips thirsty for oil and blood;

" **WE ARE THE DEAD**."

Those words echo in your mind still, and they bring such a burning to your chest that you feel as though it will burst. Your fists clench at their cries, your eyes glare with such an intensity that even the Master of this dulled place can feel your anger. You know he knows of you, is waiting for you to slip up, but you will not give him that gift.

if you will die, you will die as they did; fighting for the hope of man.

Steps are heard echoing behind you, and you turn, but only slightly. The sunlight gives only a soft reflection of your face, revealing dirty, but pale flesh, a single line streaking down your eye as you await the presence that comes toward you.

It is a friend, and she holds within her hands a broken, beaten helmet. Though the condition looks patched, clearly given what attention could be brought to it, it was still far from fixed.

"Ma'am, we... W-We have recovered the Helmet. It was all that was left." She began, voice trembling, though you do not know why. Her accent hung deep in her voice, but you didn't mind. You had gotten used to it. "We repaired what we could, but the lens are still cracked, a-and the helmet itself is in no condition to be used in combat."

You stare unto it. The scratches on it's hardened metal, the dirt and sand that remained stuck within them, but the blue paint-- that color remained obvious. Though it has been dulled from wear and tear, it is there, and you turn, holding out your hand, palm stretched outward.

"You did your best, comrade. Thank you for retrieving this for me. Who knows what would have happened to it if we hadn't found it first. And please, you know you don't need to call me Ma'am. I'm not like them."

She smiles a little, albeit nervously, and steps up to you, handing you the helmet. You hold it there, closing your eyes, imagining the face this once concealed; filled with betrayal, with pain, utter, sheer confusion. You hold it there, and your fingers tighten their grip on the soft interior. You then open your eyes, a bright green reflection, shining against the blue paint, and you turn your head, staring back onto the overhead of the city, the tallest buildings standing like pillars of oppressive energy above their people.

You hear your friend's footsteps begin to leave the room, but they stop, and you feel her presence remain. 

"Is there something else?" You ask aloud, knowing that she is probably too nervous to say it herself. She has always been so timid, but you understand why; her reasoning is justified. 

"... What are you going to do now, Roll?"

You stare down back at the helmet within your palm, holding it up to look over it one more time. You bring your hand up to brush over the broken lens, feeling the cracked glass, and you glare, returning your gaze back to the young girl behind you, turning to her with your fists clenched.

"... I am going to do what my brothers couldn't." You say, and for a moment, even you wonder what you mean by those words, and if you can truly uphold what they promise. If they couldn't do it, then how could you?

She looks away, her expression saddened now, as she crosses her arms above her chest. "I truly hope you are right, then. The last thing this city needs is another body to clean up."

Before you can assure her, she leaves, and you frown. You know she fears for you, for the one true friend she has left in this horrid, abandoned place, but you will remain here. For her, for these people, however pathetic they may be now.

You turn back one more time to your city, and you pull the broken helmet of your fallen brother over your head, looking through the very lens that he once did. His shaded view now feels so close, and the tattered, yellow fabric, that rests around your neck, seems to catch the faintest breeze that blows through the window.

You are Roll, sister to the fallen brothers of Mega man, and Proto man.

This world has no Heroes, but now it will have something better.

Now it has a Heroine. 


End file.
